


Needle and Thread

by Broken_Clover



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Experimental Style, Gen, Needles, Sewing, Weird Fluff, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: Faust finds an abandoned doll in the trash.





	Needle and Thread

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to [this scene](https://youtu.be/haW0vKj99tk) while I was writing this, perhaps a bit too fittingly.

Faust found a doll.

Though honestly, that wasn’t a very odd thing. He had seen many dolls. And he had seen more than a few broken ones in need of fixing.

This one was no different. Faust found it lying in the trash on the way home from work. It was stained and sullied from a lack of careful hands and from the garbage it laid in. Many of the seams were coming undone, just barely holding itself together. It was a beautiful doll, very well-made, but it seemed that it had been handled very roughly and thoughtlessly- or, as was often the case, deliberately damaged for someone else’s enjoyment.

Well, he couldn't exactly leave it there, could he? What kind of person would that make him?

He pulled it from the garbage pile. The doll hung limply from his fingers as he began walking home again, across the moon-dappled streets. It was in very poor condition, but Faust was very skilled when it came to that sort of work. Though it was rare that he’d find one so battered, he wasn’t worried.

Home came quickly enough. He placed the doll on his table, walking off to go find his tools. When he returned, it had somehow managed to fall on the floor. He hastily picked it up and put it back in place. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

With all the tears and gashes, cotton stuffing had begun slipping through and falling out. Faust had already gotten bits clinging onto his clothing, and little flecks had spilled out onto the table and floor. Still, even with the mess, he didn’t let himself worry. He had plenty of cotton, left behind by other dolls. 

Faust quickly went to work, finding the right kind of fluff to match. By that point, a lot of it had been lost. Long, gentle fingers replaced the scattered material, pressing it inside until the doll looked a little move vibrant. Though it was still heavily damaged, it was far better than it had looked in the garbage.

With a mechanical squeal, the box of tools was unlatched and opened. He skimmed along the immaculately-organized shelves with eyes and fingers, pushing aside various instruments that glinted under the lamplight. The single light source was sharp, cutting through the otherwise dusky room to illuminate all the things of note- the man, his tools, the tabletop, and the quiet, motionless doll.

The tip of a needle dipped into the fabric with an almost-rhythm, looping in and out carefully and precisely. Thick black thread began pulling the slices shut, sealing holes, reaffixing a loose, dangling arm that barely remained attached to the body. In, out, in, out, repeated again and again to form dark zigzags across the lighter surface. A pattern Faust knew well, though the amount of thread needed to sew up all the wounds was a bit surprising. Black markings were left everywhere.

He would admit, he was a bit impressed. With the amount of damage, it was more common that a doll would be irreparable, unsalvageable. His intuition had been right. This one was remarkably resilient. It just wouldn’t give up on him.

“Good.” His quiet voice carried through the workroom. “You’re doing well. You’ll be all nice and fixed up very soon, alright?”

Faust was given no reply, but he hadn’t been expecting one. The figure on the table remained still, open and prone as it was worked on.

With a few gentle tugs and carefully-tied knots in the thread, the needle was put down and replaced with scissors. 

_Shik_

_Shik_

_Shik_

The excess strands were cut free and dropped into a nearby wastebin. Both the scissors and needle were put away, back into their organized place in the box. From a different drawer, Faust pulled out some fabric to make the thread-marked areas less visible. The patches were affixed to the stitches, either stuck on or wrapped around. They made suitable covers as well, for the smaller tears that hadn’t been sewn.

It was a lovely little thing, even in such a state. The strange little doll, with its odd pink hearts and golden rings. It may have still been dirty and bedraggled, but the majority of the damage had been dealt with, stitched up and hidden away from sight. With enough time, perhaps he could make it look just as it had before whatever it was that had happened to it.

No. Of course he could. He had done this many times before. Odd or not, fixing things wasn’t anything new to him.

Long fingers fanned over the strips of white, binding down a tenuously rising and falling chest. Faust moved his hand up to stroke dark hair soothingly, then reached up to flip off the overhead lamp. Stretching out his long legs, he stood up, turned, and began walking away from the operating table. 

He smiled as he went, a smile from another job well done.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know this one is kinda weird. I saw people describe Zappa as 'puppety' and 'like a doll being tossed around' so my brain kinda took the idea and ran with it.
> 
> I'm not sure if I quite got the atmosphere I was going for, this one's kinda weirder than my usual stuff (also metaphorical stuff really isn't my strong suit), so I'd really appreciate some feedback if you have some!


End file.
